Chapter Sixty-Five: Winter Boy

“But his writing, even two years of improvement might not be enough,” Qian Huairen couldn’t help but throw cold water on the idea.

“Writing skills can be improved; they won’t hinder his ultimate achievement,” Zhu Liu waved his hand dismissively and sneered, “Especially here in Great Ming.”

He couldn’t help but complain, “Because our dynasty really doesn’t have any writers worth mentioning. Don’t even compare us to Qin and Han; even the Eight Great Prose Masters—no one in our era can match them.”

“That’s going too far, isn’t it? Not to mention the founding Liu, Song, Gao, Yang—right now, there’s King Qian and the Seven Talents, whose writings can rival the ancients and the moderns,” Qian Huairen replied with a bitter smile.

Truthfully, he felt the same—why else would people still read the works of Qin, Han, Tang, and Song? But he couldn’t diminish his own dynasty’s reputation…

“It’s just picking a commander from among dwarfs. Hundreds of years from now, the works of Qin, Han, Tang, and Song will still shine through the ages, while those written to suit the times in our dynasty will have long since been buried in piles of old paper, forgotten…” Zhu Liu sighed with melancholy. “To have one’s writings dead while still alive—how dull that is.”

“That’s why the Seven Talents are promoting the revival movement,” Qian Huairen said with a laugh, “Perhaps the literary world will be reborn.”

“Who knows?” Zhu Liu seemed uninterested in literary matters and said coolly, “These days, scholars should hurry to master the Eight-Legged Essay and enter officialdom to bring peace—that’s the proper path.”

“Of course. Nowadays, scholars are confined to their studies all for the sake of the civil examinations. How many truly pursue scholarship?” Qian Huairen sighed. “It’s unfortunate that even you, Headmaster, find the exams difficult; for us, there’s little hope.”

“There’s nothing to be done.” Zhu Liu sighed deeply. “The higher you ascend, the more you feel heaven’s injustice. The gap between ordinary people and geniuses is one that can never be bridged in a lifetime.”

“No need to go so high; even before the Headmaster, we feel it,” Qian Huairen said, half flattering, half truthful.

“Perhaps we’ll see hope again.” Zhu Liu said softly.

“Headmaster means that boy?” Qian Huairen widened his eyes at last, but despite all the Headmaster had said, he still found it absurd.

“Not now, of course, but if he continues to pursue this path, he will surely bring us more surprises.” Zhu Liu gazed up at the sky. “A stone from another mountain can help polish jade; I only wish he becomes a true mountain himself.”

“If Headmaster values him so highly, then perhaps yesterday he shouldn’t have given him a zero,” Qian Huairen said quietly. “It puts too much pressure on the child.”

“The rules must not be broken. Once broken, they can never be restored,” Zhu Liu said solemnly. “Besides, that boy managed to enter the academy in three months, solved the opening problem in a day, and mastered grammar and logic in two months. I look forward to seeing whether he shows obvious progress in his writing next month.”

He certainly wouldn’t tell Qian Huairen that he had already secretly passed the secret manual to that boy…

~~~

Elsewhere, though Su Lu had received the secret manual, he didn’t let it go to his head. As a seasoned test-taker, he knew all too well that technique always rests on a foundation of skill.

Without solid ability, no amount of technique is more than a pretty facade—good to look at, but useless.

So Su Youcai’s nightly ‘prosody lessons’ not only didn’t stop, they were extended from half an hour to a full hour…

Why call it ‘prosody lessons’ and not ‘poetry lessons’? Because Su Lu’s goal was clear: by studying the rules of poetry and mastering tonal patterns and rhyme, he aimed to improve his diction.

As for composing poetry, if he could pick it up along the way, so much the better; if not, he wasn’t concerned…

Moreover, since the start of school, he had been practicing couplets—not only on the way to and from school with Su Dan, but also at night with his father, turning this enjoyable word game into a parent-child activity.

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After two months of couplet and rhyme training, Su Lu had developed a certain sensitivity to sounds. That evening, Su Youcai took out a yellowed copy of “The Hongwu Standard Rhymes.”

“You’ve basically mastered couplets, so today I’ll start teaching you to distinguish rhyme groups and recognize tonal patterns.” Every pore of Su Youcai radiated joy. It wasn’t because his work environment was pleasant—rather, compared to the repugnant Four Books and Five Classics, poetry and song were his true passion.

“Since you’re not interested in composing poetry, I won’t bother explaining ancient and modern forms, regulated verse, or quatrains. I’ll go straight to tonal patterns and rhyming,” he said, voice robust, to Su Lu. “Let’s start with tonal patterns…”

He tapped out the rhythm as he explained the difference: “Level tones are smooth and relaxed; oblique tones are twisting and forceful. In poetry, level and oblique alternate and oppose each other, making the melody powerful and resonant. Therefore, since the Southern Dynasties’ Yongming poetic form, every line’s tonal pattern follows strict rules.”

“In each poetic line, there are four basic units: level-level, oblique-oblique, single-level, and single-oblique, called ‘steps.’ Writing poetry is a process where ‘sounds’ form ‘steps,’ and ‘steps’ form ‘lines.’”

“The first ‘step’ at the start of every line must be a double-syllable step. For example, for five-character lines starting with level tones, the first line is ‘level-level-oblique-oblique-level’; for five-character lines starting with oblique tones, the first line is ‘oblique-oblique-oblique-level-level’…”

“Additionally, the tonal patterns must be relative, connected, and alternating. If you’re not composing poetry, you don’t need to delve deep. There are only a few types of tonal patterns—memorize them, and it’s enough for writing…”

Su Youcai cast a resentful glance at Su Lu, clearly dissatisfied that he only studied prosody and not poetry composition.

“Mm-hmm.” Su Lu nodded obediently, knowing his father was only grumbling and would never teach him anything ‘useless.’

“You must memorize the tonal patterns of every character in the rhyme book, so you don’t violate the rules,” Su Youcai finally opened the “Hongwu Standard Rhymes” and continued:

“There are seventy-six rhyme groups divided among the four tones. Among them, rising, departing, and entering tones are oblique; the rest are level. Whether writing poetry, couplets, or parallel prose, you must rhyme, so you need the rhyme book.”

He stroked the well-worn “Hongwu Standard Rhymes” with deep affection. “Every time I compose seriously, I rely on this to choose rhyming characters, check rhyme groups, review the whole piece, and verify tonal patterns. You should carry it with you at all times.”

Su Lu looked at the rhyme book. There were twenty-two level-tone rhymes: ‘Dong, Zhi, Qi, Yu, Mu, Jie, Hui, Zhen, Han, Shan, Xian, Xiao, Yao, Ge, Ma, Zhe, Yang, Geng, You, Qin, Tan, Yan.’

There were also twenty-two groups for rising and departing tones each, ten for entering tones, totaling twelve thousand two hundred forty-six characters.

He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, “Luckily, it’s not too many characters; I’ll just put in the effort to memorize them all.”

Su Youcai rolled his eyes, feeling a little hurt. But he knew that with Su Lu’s extraordinary memory, he really could do as he said…

Alas, why does the father not resemble the son? Heaven help us…

~~~

Thus, Su Lu continued memorizing rhymes, mastering tonal patterns, practicing couplets, refining diction, and training his inner skills, while secretly studying the ‘Solitary Nine Swords,’ preparing with all his might for the second monthly examination on April 15.

Outside of study, two things happened during this period. One was a joyful event: at the end of March, eldest uncle and aunt returned from Hejiang, bringing news that young aunt had given birth safely.

And she’d had twins—an elder girl and a younger boy.

The whole family was delighted. Grandfather named the little girl Xi Bao’er.

The boy was named Su Run, with the nickname Winter Boy…

The child was born in spring, so calling him Winter Boy seemed odd. But Grandfather was meticulous—he’d thought it through. Normally, young uncle married at the end of last winter, so the child should have been born this winter.

So the news of Su Run’s birth was kept within the family; no celebration eggs were sent to the clan, and everything would be announced come winter.

By then, calling him Winter Boy would be appropriate.

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~~~

The other event was bad news…

On the fourth of April, Su Lu and Su Dan returned home from school as usual. The next day was the ten-day rest, and they were planning an enjoyable special training session. But suddenly, the atmosphere at Erlang Beach felt suffocating.

“What’s happened?” Su Lu saw Su Lang coming out of his house, looking pale, and his heart skipped a beat. “Did something happen at home?”

“Brother, your family’s fine,” Su Lang said softly. “Bad news came from Luzhou. This year’s prefectural exam—not a single candidate from Erlang Beach passed.”

Besides Su Man, two boys from the Cheng family also took the exam… Both clans had high hopes, but the result was disappointing. No wonder Erlang Beach felt lifeless.

“What?” Su Dan exclaimed, “Even Big Brother didn’t pass? He was third in the county exam!”

“That’s just what I heard. Who knows the specifics?” Su Lang sighed and said to Su Lu, “Brother, go inside quickly. I heard Chun Boy is sick.”

“…” Su Lu hurried inside, taking three steps at a time.

~~~

In the main hall, the clan elders gathered again, but unlike last time’s joyful occasion, this time gloom hung heavy.

Grandfather sat straddling the fire pit, the betel leaf roll in his mouth left unchewed for ages. Eldest uncle was wilted like a frostbitten eggplant, slumped nearby. Aunt hid in the inner room, sobbing.

The old clan leader spoke words of comfort: “Don’t be like this. Chun Boy getting into the prefectural exam is already a victory. No one in our clan has ever passed the county exam before.”

“Exactly. Back then, Cheng Peiyang took the exam several times—he was over thirty when he finally became a scholar,” the clan genealogist, Su Da Qiang, added. “Chun Boy isn’t even twenty yet—there’s plenty of time, so what’s the rush?”

“Yes, becoming a scholar isn’t like becoming a provincial graduate. There are lots of opportunities—two exams every three years,” said Su Da Ji, master of the distillery, offering comfort.

“What’s more, next time Chun Boy won’t have to take the county exam; he can go straight to the prefectural exam—how great is that?”

“Sigh, don’t bother comforting me, just go home,” Grandfather waved his hand helplessly, chewing his betel leaf roll hard. “Your advice is missing the point… Do you think I care about that? I’m worried about my eldest grandson right now!”

“True. We only heard from classmates that he’s sick in Luzhou, but what illness, how serious—it’s all unknown,” Eldest uncle sighed. “I’m just worried about my son; nothing else matters.”

It was no wonder they were so anxious. With the medical and sanitary conditions of the era, illness was a brush with death. And Su Man was sick in a distant place…

“As long as Chun Boy is safe and sound, I’d rather he never passes the exams!” Aunt sobbed in the inner room.

A display of stable emotional intelligence.

“You unlucky woman, what are you saying? Who curses their own child?!” Eldest uncle snapped, displeased. “Shut your mouth—no one’s stopping you from being silent!”

ps. Please wait a moment for the next chapter—it’s still being checked…

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